


Spirit of the Air

by bygoshbygolly



Category: Den lille Havfrue | The Little Mermaid - Hans Christian Andersen
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Love at First Sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29137866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bygoshbygolly/pseuds/bygoshbygolly
Summary: When she was sixteen years old, Charlotte saw an angel.
Relationships: Den lille Havfrue | The Little Mermaid/Prinsesse | Princess
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Spirit of the Air

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ForsythiaRising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForsythiaRising/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy!

When she was sixteen years old, Charlotte saw an angel.

It was only for a moment, the girl vanishing the moment Charlotte blinked, but the sight of her was forever etched in her heart: wide blue eyes, a mass of pale gold hair, and the last of a song so beautiful it could only be holy on her lips. There was a boy in the angel's arms, but Charlotte barely registered him. 

It was only when the angel vanished that Charlotte rushed to see if the boy was still alive.

Two years later, Charlotte met her betrothed, and was surprised to see it was the boy, now a man, from the beach. And then she took in the slight figure behind him, dressed in boy's clothes, and her breath caught in her throat.

The girl- for it was a girl, despite her dress- wore the face of the angel. The same blue eyes, the same mouth, the same shade of gold in her unbound hair. 

The rest of the welcoming ceremony proceeded, but all Charlotte could think about was the girl.

“What is your name?” Charlotte asked the girl as soon as she was able. The girl smiled faintly and shook her head.

“She doesn't have a tongue,” said the prince. He pat the girl's head affectionately. “But she is my dearest friend in all the world. I found her washed up on the beach one day, much like you found me.”

“Oh.” Perhaps Charlotte was mistaken, then, and this girl was not her angel after all. “What is her name?”

The prince looked confused. 

“I always call her 'my friend,'” he said. “I didn't think to give her a name. I assumed she had one of her own already.” He turned to the girl. “Would you like a name?”

She smiled again, this time tilting her head. The prince seemed to understand.

“Very well.” He thought for a moment. “Ariel, then, for the spirit of air from The Tempest.” He turned to Charlotte. “Have you seen it? A most wondrous play.”

“I have,” replied Charlotte. She would have chosen a more pious name, something angelic, but there was an ethereal quality to the girl that the name seemed to suit. “Ariel, then. I hope we can be friends.”

Any doubts Charlotte may have had about Ariel's true angelic nature vanished when she saw her dance. She moved so lightly and gracefully, Charlotte knew she was no mere mortal. Charlotte found herself weeping at the sight, as if her heart was broken, though she could not say why. 

The month before the wedding passed quickly in a whirl of fittings, rehearsals, parties, and more. Although the three of them were often busy, they found time to spend together. Charlotte was pleased at how well she got on with the prince, and how quickly she was able to read Ariel's expressions. Her heart was never so full as it was in those days.

The afternoon before the wedding, Charlotte and Ariel stood together on the side of a cliff, overlooking the sea. The prince had been whisked off to a hunting party, and Charlotte relished this time spent alone with her angel.

“That day I found the prince,” she said, “I saw you, too. Do you remember?”

Ariel turned to face her. She searched Charlotte's face. Charlotte held her breath, almost trembling. Then Ariel smiled and placed a hand on Charlotte's cheek. She nodded.

Charlotte swayed forward a little; she wanted nothing more in that moment than to press her lips to Ariel's. It was only the sound of a triumphant horn, signaling the return of the hunting party, that stopped her.

The wedding night passed in a blur of music and dancing and wine. Ariel danced more beautifully than Charlotte had ever seen; at the end of the performance, Charlotte found her face wet with tears she did not realize she'd cried. The night ended when the prince and Charlotte adjourned to his ship, where the wedding bed had been placed.

Charlotte woke a little before dawn, disturbed by some small noise. The moonlight sifted through the porthole, revealing a trembling Ariel standing by the bed, a strange white knife in her hand.

Perhaps Charlotte should have been frightened, but Ariel had only ever meant warmth and light to her, and so she only whispered- 

“Is everything all right?”

Ariel started. There was nothing of the avenging angel to her- her face was a mask of utter anguish. She turned to look at Charlotte, eyes wide and pleading.

“If this is something you must do- something you've been told you must do- I won't argue,” said Charlotte. She could not hope to comprehend angels or their missions, but she wished she could ease the pain Ariel so clearly felt. “But if there is anything I can do to help, please, let me.” She paused, and because sleep still lay heavy around her, and because she could not stand the look on Ariel's face, she said “Please. I love you.”

Ariel let out a small, wordless cry, the only sound Charlotte had ever heard her make, and dropped the knife. She lunged for the open porthole, pulled herself through, and before Charlotte could stand, vanished.

Charlotte ran to the porthole, not caring if she disturbed the prince. But in the first rosy light of dawn, there was no sign of Ariel


End file.
